Out of Tune: A Sort of Christmas Carol
by AgentOrangeCO2
Summary: Tis the season to be jolly or it is for most everyone. Deidara Scrooge hates Christmas, Ghosts and losing money, but all seem to be inevitable this year. Like a group of discordant carolers, join us as we try to give Scrooge the Christmas Spirit. Or not.


_**AN: **_

In 1843, Charles Dickens wrote a quick ghost story to earn a small amount of money for the season, and to fill the pages of a magazine. Well enough, this story has become one of the most popular (and parodied) Christmas tales of time yet to date. Yet again, inspired by a stilted sense of humor, a friend and horse forums I present

**Out of Tune: A Sort of Christmas Carol **

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this fanfiction except the apple martinis.

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Deidara Scrooge sat in his dingy gray office, half-heartedly fondling the wads of cash he kept in his desk drawer. He looked at the window at the dingy gray sky and beyond to the thousands upon thousands of Christmas time ornaments that lined the houses on the street. Glittering lights, shiny wreaths, bedecked trees, happy children (God, how he hated children) and all variety of merriment and joy all blinked and twinkled into the darkening sky.

"Bah, un." He rolled his eyes and stop up with a start. Seven years ago today he had lost his long time partner and teacher, Sasori, to a freak puppet accident. On Christmas Eve of all days! Sasori had only wished to purchase a puppet for his dear grandmother, when the entire shelf had come down upon him. While this hadn't killed him, his grandmother, unhappy with the present presumably, had thrown the offending puppet at him stabbing him through the heart. Posthumously, this was incredibly ironic and surprisingly hilarious, but Deidara had lost all sense of humor over the years. Their art trading company had then fallen solely to the hands of his younger comrade. Over the years Deidara had grown cold and alone, become crueler and meaner, and just plain crazier. His neighbors often heard his half-mad rantings (although what they pertained to ranged from the ridiculous rise of surrealism to the state of his milk), but dared not complain for fear of finding their stove blown through the ceiling.

People on the street skirted around the tall dark building that was Marley and Scrooge, well aware of its surly business executive. When Deidara Scrooge walked too and from work, it was few and far between that greeted him. He never gave to the poor, or volunteered, or even gave a ha' penny to the Salvation Army. He never said hello to the children on the street (did he mention he hated children?), he never gave the street urchins a second glance, and to sum things up- he never cared for anyone but himself. His reputation as a miser spread far and wide (for this was his art!), the gossip of his absolute stinginess, he total abhorrence for charity and his complete hatred for joy ran rampant through the town (and the next one over.)

He started out the door of his office, walking hunched against the chill that permeated even the building, and towards the main room of the company. He grabbed his top hat and cane, and slammed open the thick wooden door to the work room.

"Ah! Tobi is being a good worker, Mr. Scrooge!" Only one man sat at a desk in the middle of the ridiculously large room. Scrooge, not surprisingly, had a high turnover rate and this imbecile had been the only one not fired in celebration of the first day of Hanukkah.

"You better be, un. How are my finances?" Deidara scowled, and wondered again why he hadn't fired Tobi. Maybe it was the hypnotizing orange mask, or the man's ability to be mysteriously absent at the best times, or just sheer luck.

"Uh! Dunno!" Tobi rifled through a large stack of papers teetering near the edge of his desk, all marked with figures and numbers and complicated things. "Ah! Looks like they are enough above budget to give me a Christmas bonus so I can feed my family and clothe my children and save my youngest son, Lame Lee, from a deadly disease!"

"Go to Hel- **Lame Lee**? Who names their kid that?" Deidara Scrooge brandished his cane at the offending employee.

"Well, we just sorta started calling him that when he was limping pathetically around, and it sorta kinda stuck." Tobi pushed his fingers together guiltily. "And he's not really mine either, but I'm not going to tell you that."

"You're not to tel- oh bah, un. Just go home. But be here tomorrow." Deidara sputtered, and then waved a hand at Tobi, dismissing him.

"But! Sempai! Tomorrow is _**Christmas**_!" Tobi suddenly fell to his knees dramatically and his voiced started to quaver.

"Yeah, that holiday about Jesus and Donkeys and a fat man who steals cookies… _so what_? I know you're not religious."

"I am when it comes to holidays! Christmas isn't about present and lights! It's about caring and shar-"

"I watched enough Barney as a kid to know where this is going. Get out, un." Deidara pointed at the door, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, okay. Sempai." Tobi drooped visibly and walked sullenly out the door. As he pulled it shut, the precarious stack of papers on his desk took a last wobble and scattered to the floor.

"BAH, UN."

Deidara strode home, skirting snow and slush and small children running merrily in the streets.

"Move it! Damn kids." He swung his cane at another toddling brat.

"Merry Christmas to you, sir!" A man waved cheerily at him as he walked by.

"I'm Jewish, you prig!" Deidara shook his fist at the man, who seemed none taken aback. He wasn't really Jewish, but anything to make this man uncomfortable made him feel better.

"Merry Jewmas!" The man tried again.

"Jews celebrate Hanu- Oh bah. Nevermind, un." Deidara seethed as he continued to stride towards his large estate.

When he reached the door, a most curious thing happened. As he stepped up to unlock his door, he paused to wipe his feet on his inviting "Welcome!" welcome mat. But, strangely enough, the welcome mat did not spell out the usual greeting, but instead the letters S, a, s, o, r and i. As per usual though, Deidara didn't even bother to look down for letters, kittens or his litter anyways and completely missed the obvious sign. Maybe next time, they ought to try the coffee pot, or the toilet seat.

Deidara sank into his favorite chair, brooding semi-quietly tonight, much to the neighbor's relief. He opened another well worn book ("The Rise and Fall of Cubism") and started leafing through the pages. After a few minutes of this, he still couldn't get his mind off his hatred of celebration.

"I hate Picasso!" he shouted and threw the book violently over his shoulder.

"Could you watch where you throw things, brat?" A rattle of chains and a mysteriously ghostly voice came from behind the large back of Deidara's chair. Deidara, a stringent non-believer in the supernatural, was of course, scared shitless.

_ "_Well, I've been ectoplasming here for about ten minutes, so when you're done crying for you mommy, we can get on with business." Deidara slowly unclenched his fingers from his pants and uncurled from the fetal position he had sealed himself into in the chair. He turned slowly, ever so slowly, around and peered around the arm of his chair.

"Sa-Sasori? You'r- you're d-d-de-"

"Dead? Congrats, Captain Obvious and Kid Oblivious." Sasori, ethereal glow bouncing around the overly large room, stood (or more floated) right behind the large plush chair, looking very much alive. Except for the chains, whips and distant hell fire in the background and perhaps the vague transparent quality about him. Okay, maybe he didn't look all that alive.

"You became a dominator in the afterlife, un?" Deidara gained more courage after he realized he had not in-fact, soiled his good pants.

"No, moron! I'm in hell."

"Oh. That sucks, un."

"Oh it's not so ba- Eh! No! That's not why I'm here!" Sasori suddenly put his hand up and his face split into a wide grin. "I'm here to scare you straight!"

"Straight? I'm not ga-"

"Not that straight, brat!" Sasori cleared his throat loudly and lifted his hand theatrically. "Sorry, the voice takes a minute to prepare." Deidara merely stared, wide eyed as Sasori's form began twist and form, the chains became louder and the screams and roar of fire sounded ever closer.

"_I AM THE GHOST OF SASORI, HERE TO WARN YOU OF YOUR IMPEDING FATE_!"

"No need to shout ther-"

_ "QUIET FOOL! DO YOU SEE THESE CHAINS UPON ME? THESE ARE THE CHAINS I HAVE WROUGHT IN LIFE, MIZERING AND CHEATING, AND SO THUS, THEY HAUNT ME NOW_."

"Danna, don't say I didn't warn you about the drinkin-"

"_MUST YOU INCESSENTLY TALK, BRAT? Anyways. Where was I? Oh YES. YOUR PATH IS LEADING YOU TO THIS FATE AS WELL, BUT DO NOT FEAR I AM HERE TO WARN YOU AND TO HELP YOU CHANGE YOUR WAYS! YOU SHALL BE VISITED BY THREE SPECTRES. YOU SHALL FOLLOW THEIR HEED AND YOU SHALT BE SAVED YET, DEIDARA SCROOGE. _The end."

"Aw. That's nice of you to think of me Danna, un!" Deidara waved a hand at Sasori, who was standing (floating) cross armed again.

"Oh, I'm getting Christmas bonus pay for this, don't be too flattered." Sasori blinked back at the hell fire. Deidara immediately scowled again.

"Good friend you were, un. Bah. Go to Hell." Sasori shrugged and stepped backwards, fading again.

"As you wish. Heed my warning Deidara! Or you will be stuck in eternity with me, enjoying apple martinis and promiscuous women!" With that, Sasori faded away, along with the sounds of screaming and the distant rattle of chains.

Deidara sat stock still for a moment, before blinking owlish at the space Sasori had just stood.

"Well, geez. I don't really like apple martinis all that much."

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And so we leave Scrooge, and so the author realized Kakuzu would have been far more in character as Scrooge, then ignores this and continues in the third person!

The Ghosts Appear, Next Chapter.


End file.
